Anarchists, Hunters and Irishmen
by AnshinCrimson
Summary: One-shot, though may have a sequel if this gets enough attention. A small team of mercenaries struggle to defend a monastery with a mysterious secret to hide. Rated T for Coarse Language and Violence.


_**Alright, I've had a shave, a shower, a game of football. Lets do this! Please review and let me know what you think!**_

* * *

**Mary, I don't know what to do, Mary!**

**Cos' every time I look away from you, you're all I see, Mary!**

**Why don't you save me?**

**Why don't you let be or let me go?**

**I'm begging on my knees, forget me please**

**Or forgive me so,**

**Oh Mary!**

_"They've got a fucking Predator! Someone hit it with the Stinger!" _

_"Ah fuck, I'm hit! I'm hi-"_

_"Alpha's down, the town is lost! I repeat, the town is lost!" _

_"Oh shit! There's got to be a hundred of them down there man!"_

_"I have a visual on an APC rolling towards the monastery, taking the shot" _

_"Bravo team, you just became our last hope, don't fail us"_

_"We need a sniper in the mezzanine! It's got a clear view of the courtyard!"_

_"Baseplate, we can hold the monastery for an hour tops! We need reinforcements; Rangers, Marines, Airborne's, anyone you can spare!"_

_"Roger that Bravo, we have Delta team your vicinity, ETA two hours"_

_"Two hours? You gotta be fucking with me, we need them now!"_

_"Predator's down!"_

_"They're the closest assets we have, you _must _hold the monastery until then"_

_"We'll do our best but that Delta team's gonna be on clean-up duty!"_

_"This is Irish, I'm in the mezzanine arch over the start of the pier to the temple and I got a full view of the courtyard"_

_"Copy that Irish, all other Bravo members are to take up defensive positions in the courtyard and shoot anything that comes through that doorway!"_

_"Why do we have to work with Delta's? Don't get me wrong, they know their shit but they're fucking show ponies" _

_"They're the best we got right now so we just gotta work with it"_

_"We're mercenaries, we don't never roll with fuckin' D-boys"_

_"Do you know what's in that temple Boomer?"_

_"I ain't got a clue"_

_"Well, the US Government is paying us three times our usual rate and is willing to kill to get it so shut your face, Hunter, you there?"_

_"Aye up man?"_

_"You got those cameras set up"_

_"They up an' runnin' man, an' the north tunnel's collapsed too"_

_"Nice job, just in time too, tangos just reached the gate now"_

_"Bravo team, this is Baseplate, the President and everyone else here is praying for you"_

_"Then tell em' to pray harder, cause it ain't fuckin' working!"_

The door to the courtyard detonated and a figure in black stormed in firing an old AK-47. Irish shot him in the face and his head exploded like a tin of soup. Two more figures rushed in and Boomer tore them both apart with his M60.

The doorway was suddenly filled with black clothed figures and all five members of Bravo team let rip. Irish aimed for the most dangerous targets, ones with RPG's and body armour while Boomer fired at groups of figures at a time, riddling them with bullets before they could even see him.

Hunter, the big Jamaican, targeted the doorway with his M4A1 while Grey, the grizzled squad leader, opened fire at those ducking for cover with an AK-47 identical to those used by the attackers.

Anarchist, a lithe 28 year old woman with a short haircut, fired an MP7 at anyone who looked like shooting back. Together they managed to push the attackers back to the door way. A sudden explosion echoed around the courtyard.

Boomer's head snapped up, "Balls! Someone just tripped one of the claymores boss!" Grey swore in Russian, "Go around and figure out how they breached the wall then plug the breach!" Boomer looked puzzled "plug the breach?" Grey shot an attacker between the eyes, "Explode the shit out of anyone coming through it!"

Boomer smiled, his day brightened by the prospect of making something explode, preferably into small, messy pieces.

Irish whistled an old nursery rhyme his mother used to sing to him when he was a child. It took his mind off the people he was killing and put him in a state of Zen. Firing, reloading, firing, reloading, on and on.

He sensed movement behind him, courtesy of his elevated state of being, and swung his fist around. It hit his attacker in the arm, knocking away the machete which was about to decapitate him. The attacker recovered quickly though and the machete came back, swinging for his neck again.

Irish lifted his Arctic Warfare sniper rifle up and blocked the blade with the stock before hurling a throwing knife at his attacker's throat. It slid in, slicing an artery open, and Irish turned to see seven more of the black robed figures facing him. He swallowed and put his rifle on the ground, raising his hands in the air.

The attackers laughed and surrounded him and one kicked him to the floor. Then came the kicks, the attackers stomping his abdomen and head. They got pretty heated about it, so heated, in fact, that none of then saw him pull the pin on the grenade he was holding but they all saw him grab one of their comrades by the leg and stuff the grenade down his cold weather parka.

Irish grabbed his rifle and leapt over the railing of the mezzanine, adrenaline overpowering the pain. He hit the ground just as the grenade detonated. The section of the mezzanine smashed outwards and the seven attackers with it.

Irish chuckled, "Let's see the cunts get from up from that one". He turned in time to catch a bullet in the leg. "Gah, fuck!" he roared, pressing his hands over the bullet wound. The bullet had scratched his thigh bone but had torn out the other side, luckily without nicking any arteries along the way.

Anarchist saw him collapse to the ground and screamed his name. Irish waved her away and pulled a hypodermic syringe from his combat webbing then jabbed it into the crook of his elbow so that it would disperse faster.

_"Oh shit, is Boomer! There's a fuckin' attack robot over here! It shot a goddamn missile at the wall, rolled in and - FUCK!"_ the radio signal cut to hash and Grey hurled Russian curses and bullets at the attackers but not even the 78 kilograms of solid muscle and testosterone that was Grey couldn't stop the sheer numbers of the enemy.

They swarmed over the barricades and the last Irish saw of Grey, he had tossed his AK to the side and had drawn a hunting knife from its sheath on his belt. Hunter had emptied his M4A1 as well and was dragged to the ground by the attackers.

Anarchist knew certain death when she saw it. The French mercenary ran over to Irish and picked him up with deceptive strength. She half dragged, half carried Irish to the large lake on top of the mountain, barely staying ahead of their attackers.

Irish was still carrying his Arctic Warfare so Anarchist knocked it out of his hands, "you won't be needing that" she said in her smooth, accented voice. Irish was already woozy from blood loss and the painkillers were kicking in fast.

Anarchist sprayed her MP7 behind her and dropped it when the clip ran dry. She pulled the pin from a grenade with her teeth and threw it behind her. It detonated in the middle of a group of attackers, buying them almost three precious seconds.

Anarchist repeated the process with her last two grenades, then grabbed one from Irish's vest. This time she didn't pull the pin before throwing it behind her. The attackers yelled and rolled away, this time it bought them two more seconds, taking their lead to almost ten seconds.

They reached the middle of the pier leading to the monastery and kept moving. Bullets whizzed around them and kicked up splinters beside their feet. A sudden chattering caused the attackers to slow and turn.

Somewhere behind them, a new front had opened up and a hell of an offensive erupted on it. The attackers' numbers had dwindled due to their head on attack on the monastery, Anarchist's grenades and the battle through the town.

Anarchist grunted and something splashed across Irish's face. A black clothed figure was pointing a brand new AK-47 at Anarchist. She collapsed to the ground heavily and the shooter swung the AK towards Irish.

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Irish opened his eyes. The shooter lay on the pier amongst the cooling corpses of his comrades. A bullet had punched through the back of his head, destroying it. An arm and half of his leg had also been blown off.

A new figure walked into Irish's field of view, carrying a massive Desert Eagle 50. Cal in each hand was Boomer.

He looked like hammered shit, he had cuts across his face and was missing half of his ear. He had bullet wounds in his left shoulder and hip and it looked like he had some of his short, brown hair burnt off. But he still looked like an absolute badass, his Vietnam-era M60 slung over his back.

"I got ya buddy, hang in there" Boomer called, his voice echoing in Irish's ears. Anarchist groaned and rolled over to reveal a gut shot. Boomer knelt down next to her and checked her back. The bullet had passed straight through. Lucky.

Boomer pulled a pair of syringes from his vest and injected Anarchist with a blue and a red syringe, tossing the empty hypodermics to the side.

_'Painkiller and blood loss control'_ Irish thought absently. He noticed shadows creeping in around the corners of his eyes and he tried to blink them away but they stayed resolute. He shrugged inwardly and let them spread, accepting the warm embrace of unconsciousness.


End file.
